One and Done Healing

I have always had a very specific vision of what I want in a planner/journal. I want something that has space for collages and writing, as well having habit trackers and guided prompts. I was also hoping to find something that tracked the moon cycle, because a goal of my mindfulness journey is to become more in tune with the earth around me. A few months ago, I found a set of journals that fit exactly this vision.

I was so excited when I received them. I showed them off to my coworkers and bring them with me literally everywhere. It took a while for me to figure out how to use them as tools to help create better habits and also begin the process of journaling again. Week after week I felt like I was writing that my intention was to focus on discipline, yet I still found myself carrying around the journals more than I was using them. I felt so silly when I had to remind myself that just having amazing tools won’t give me the benefit that using them will.

I do the same thing with my mental and physical health. When I was going through physical therapy for my tendinitis, I would rarely do my exercises outside of our actual session. Since we still saw so much progress during the session, I convinced myself that I was off the hook outside of that. Once I graduated from physical therapy, I accepted that my new normal consisted of chronic pain, instead of remaining diligent about rebuilding my strength. Eventually, I stopped sleeping with my brace on and considered myself healed... enough. Despite being able to return to crochet with adequate breaks, I haven't been able to return to yoga, due to my lack of flexibility and strength in my injured wrist.

It feels comical when I realized that I treat my depression the same way. I take my meds and get my silly little brain zapped, and then still get surprised when the beast rears her ugly head again. I think that because I have learned the tools and have used them before, that I am exempt from needing to use them again. Despite knowing how beneficial therapy can be to me, as an external processor (I know- BIG shocker), I still resist finding a new therapist in my new city, because the process is so daunting and exhausting. It feels like I have passively surrendered to my depression. I reduce myself to survival mode, struggling to get out of bed every day, because of a deep shame or guilt or other unknown emotion that prevents me from getting the help that I know I need. I have been having to constantly remind myself that depression is not something that can be healed in a moment, it requires constantly strengthening and stretching those muscles. It's not enough to just carry around the journals anymore, I have to remember to use them.

I am working on treating myself with more kindness in these moments, but it doesn’t make asking for help any easier. I don’t really have anything to conclude this post, it has more just been musings that have shaped the last few weeks for me as I learn to navigate a new space and process the big changes. I am hoping to be able to connect with a therapist by the end of this month, because I know there is more to life than just survival and I would like to be able to push myself more to experience that. I have been reminding myself that it is okay to continue to reach for the tools and resources that have been successful for me before, because it's okay if I need a little extra help to get by. This is my brain, and unless anyone would like to volunteer to swap, I think I am stuck with it for the rest of my life.

Love and hugs,

Ken and Cerb